This Is A Rescue?
by SNSF
Summary: Sam and Dean are rescued. By the Men In Black. Who turn out to be groupies.


This Is A Rescue?

A/N: I do not own the show Supernatural, or the characters of Sam and Dean Winchester. Everyone else belongs to me- well, sort of. They're inspired by… others. The concept of the fanboy MIB's isn't exactly mine, either. Giggling Kat came up with it, but because I inspired it she's generously granting me equal rights. hugs Kat

Many thanks to Kat, for the gracious beta, and thanks to the following SNSF's: Brunette, Irvys, kimmyray, kjc, tenacious, charly, reprint, witchy, persina, and Weesta. They know why.

The tone of this fic changes pretty quickly. Just imagine living a very secretive life, and then having to be rescued by people who know your every secret. And then finding out you have obsessed fans.

--

As the man in the black robes approached them, big-ass ritual knife in hand, Sam Winchester struggled against the ropes tying him down. It was probably in vain, but he refused to die without a fight, even if it wouldn't change the outcome. Since Dean was still out cold, he knew he had to fight for the both of them.

"Stop wriggling, boy," the man said in a quiet, almost seductive voice. "It'll just hurt more." He turned the knife, and Sam got a clear look at it for the first time. He felt himself go cold. He knew that type of blade. In expert hands, the entry was almost painless. The exit was a very different story.

Sam started fighting harder, pain be damned. He glanced over at Dean.

'Please don't leave me alone long,' he silently prayed.

The man was close enough to strike. Sam stared into the cultist's eyes as the man lifted the knife. He would not go easily. He would not-

Loud noises were suddenly heard from outside the room.

"What the hell?" the cultist growled, and whirled in the direction of the noise. The door suddenly burst open, and a dark figure rushed into the room. Sam heard a gunshot, and he saw his would be killer collapse to the floor.

The figure paused over the cultist's body, illuminated by the light streaming in from the door. The figure came closer. Sam's brain tried to process the image. It was a male Caucasian, blond but with red facial hair. He wore a black suit and sunglasses. It could a stereotypical Fed, but Sam knew better. His heart started pounding.

A Man in Black. It had to be.

The Man stared down at him for a second.

"The Pretty has been secured," he said, apparently to no one. "HotDean and CuteDean are uninjured."

Sam blinked. The Pretty? Hot Dean and Cute Dean?

The Man cocked his head, as if listening to someone. 'A comlink,' Sam realized. Finally, the Man nodded.

"Understood," he said quietly before he stared at Sam. "Let's see…"

The Man started walking around, and out of view. "Here we are," Sam heard him say. He came back quickly, carrying a bucket. He splashed the contents on Dean, but some of it hit Sam, who promptly started shivering. Ice cold water.

"What the fuck!" Dean shouted as he came to.

"It appears you ran afoul of demon worshippers who intended to sacrifice you to their demonic god," the Man said in a toneless voice. Sam glanced over at his brother, who quickly put on his 'innocent' face.

"Well thanks for the rescue, sir," Dean grinned. "I'm Ed Elric, and this is my brother Al."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Winchester," the Man said calmly. His face twitched; the ghost of a smile. "You look great for someone who has been dead for months."

Dean blinked, and then quickly put the innocent face back on. The Man held his hand up.

"Don't insult my intelligence. Your brother knows what I am. I can tell. Don't tell me it should take you longer."

Sam heard his brother's quiet intake of breath. Dean had figured it out.

"Now that we're on the same page," the Man said as he squatted down closer to them, "we can continue. First, I feel it important you know that this is a most felicitous snafu for you both. I very much doubt that it will be repeated."

"Okay," Dean said slowly.

"Second, I want to show you boys why professionals always use gloves. Do you know how much trouble we've gone to in order to prevent you from being arrested?"

"What?"

The Man sighed. "When you touch most substances with your fingers, you leave things called fingerprints." The Man's voice finally had a tone- the tone used when speaking to a very young child. "Fingerprints can be used to track people."

"No shit," Dean growled. "Bet they teach you a lot in Asshole School."

"He didn't mean that," Sam said quickly, covering up an internal groan.

"Shut up, Sammy."

"Actually, they do," the Man agreed. "For instance, in Winchester 101 I learned… Sam, when you were in Kindergarten, you were frequently accosted by a gang that liked to push you down and sit on your face. I choose to believe them ignorant of the sexual connotations."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Those were some tough girls," Sam protested. He could feel his face turn red as Dean burst out laughing.

"Don't mind him," the Man continued. "He knew what was going on."

Dean abruptly stopped laughing.

"He even tried to stop it." The Man's face regained that ghost of a smile. "The same group started pushing him down and sitting on his face."

"Those were some badass five year olds," Dean muttered weakly. Sam's amusement warred with his disbelief, and amusement won. He burst out laughing.

"This coming from the boy who wet his bed until he was 15," the Man told him.

"Hey," Sam said sharply as Dean started laughing again. He and Dad were the only ones to know about that, and they had to work to keep it from Dean. "It's not my fault that- why am I even justifying myself to you?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Winchester. Your brother has a few secrets of his own. Take Major-General Woogie Snuffalupagus, for example."

"What the fuck?" Dean gasped.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam told him. "Go on."

"His teddy bear," the Man told him.

"I thought his old teddy bear's name was Rocko."

"He still has the bear, and 'Rocko' was just the name he told you and your father. The bear's real name was Colonel Woogie Snuffalupagus."

Sam burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself.

"Shut up!" Dean yelled.

Sam opened his mouth to ask another question, but he could only say "Colonel Woogie Snuffalupagus," and just cracked up again.

"I am so bitchslapping you if you don't stop buying this bull, Sammy!" he heard Dean yell over his laughter. "My bear was named Rocko. R-O-C-K-O!"

"The Colonel received the promotion of a lifetime after Dean saw a production of The Mikado," the Man continued.

"It was The Pirates of Penzance!" Dean snapped.

"Ah-hah!" Sam laughed.

"Oh fuck," Dean groaned. "How the hell did I fall for that?"

"The really embarrassing part is that he still kisses the Major-General goodnight every night, unless he has… companionship." The Man definitely had a small smile now. "Would you like me to tell you how long it's been since he's had… companionship?"

"Oh, that is it!" Dean shouted as he struggled against his bonds, vainly trying to free himself. "You are a dead man!"

"Woogie Snuffalupagus?" Sam asked. He realized that he felt oddly relaxed despite being tied up. As bizarre as this was, it had to be real. Despite the MIB humiliating them both, something in the man's manner was reassuring. Besides, he refused to believe that his subconscious could come up with 'Woogie Snuffalupagus.'

"I was a kid!" Dean protested. "I was experimenting! The name stuck!"

"Apparently," the Man murmured. "The same way you 'experimented' when you started watching Oprah."

"I already know he watches Oprah," Sam told him.

"You don't know the depths of his love for Ms. Winfrey," the Man smiled. He visibly stiffened. "Oh no."

Sam was about to ask him what was wrong when a horde of people flooded into the room and surrounded the three of them. They were all MIB's. Mostly _women_ in black, actually.

"Pretty," one woman drooled. She actually drooled!

"_The_ Pretty," another woman agreed. She wasn't drooling, but she sounded as horny as the other. Well, that explained why the Man called them 'the Pretty.'

"What the fuck?" Dean asked.

"What are you doing?" yet another WIB asked the Man.

"Teaching them a lesson," the Man replied.

"Torturing them, you mean," she sniffed. "We were listening in." The rest of the agents glared at the Man. Sam still felt very bemused.

"I was just having fun," he whined.

"Shoe!" the Woman snapped. To Sam's surprise, the Man took one of his shoes off and gave it to her. He then dropped his pants, and bent over. The Woman started spanking him with it.

"Bad Magus!" she yelled. "That's a bad Magus!"

"Bad Magus!" the rest of the agents chanted. "Very bad Magus!"

Sam caught Dean's eyes. The Winchesters mouthed "what the fuck?" in unison.

"We're sorry," the Woman told them when she was done spanking Magus. "He likes to play. You," she snapped at Magus as she pointed at the corpse, "get that piece of shit out of here and begin the cleanup."

"Yes, ma'am," Magus muttered. "You might want to wait a little bit. I had to douse HotDean with cold water, and some splashed on CuteDean, so you should let the boys warm up a little first." He grabbed the cultist's corpse and hefted it out of the room.

"Yeah, you better run!" Dean called after him.

"To be fair, he did offer you some good advice," another woman added. "You really should wear gloves when you break and enter."

"And try to cut down on posing as feds," yet another WIB added. "We have to work overtime smoothing things over with whatever group you pretend you're a part of."

"Oh, but don't worry- you actually cut down our workload like you wouldn't believe."

"Yeah- I mean, if you don't take care of this stuff then we'd have to do it. And that would be actual work."

"And work sucks."

"That's enough!" the Woman said sharply. "Don't give everything away."

"So, uh, are you gonna untie us now?" Sam asked.

"I'm afraid we can't."

"Why not?"

Suddenly, the sounds of a muffled argument could be heard from outside the closed door. The argument quickly grew in volume.

"You don't think…" one of the women started.

"What else could it be?" the Woman groaned.

Magus hobbled into the room, still rubbing his injured backside.

"D and A?" the Woman asked him. Magus nodded.

"They're passing around the photo manips of Sam."

"What?" Sam blinked. The Men in Black had photo manips of him?

"Hilton and Murray?" the Woman asked Magus.

"Oh, they're past that," Magus smirked. "They're at Clarkson and the Olson's."

"They kept it civil for that long? That is an achievement."

"True."

"Make them stop," the Woman ordered. "I don't care how. Tell them they can make chicken soup for Sam if that's what it takes."

"Got it," Magus nodded before he hobbled out of the room.

"What the hell is going on?" Sam snapped.

"Oh, two of our agents have especially large crushes on you, pretty boy. They're trying to scare each other away by faking photographs of you with some questionable people- Paris Hilton, for one."

"But I've never even met Paris Hilton!"

"And I will die to make sure it stays that way, if that's what it takes."

"Why don't I get any soup?" Dean asked out of nowhere.

"Because Sam is skinnier and he needs it more," the Woman told him.

"I am not skinny!" Sam snapped. "What I am is obviously hallucinating!"

"You wish, honey. And I mean that for both of those statements."

"Don't worry," one of the women told us. "It's all a part of your CuteDean charm."

"Uh, hello?" Dean announced. "_I'm_ Dean. This is _Sam_."

"One of our operatives couldn't tell you two apart for ages," the Woman told him. "Sam ended up with the nickname 'CuteDean,' and you with 'HotDean.'"

"What's the difference?"

"Hotness gets you fucked until you scream. Cuteness is the same as Hotness, only with mothering involved before and after."

Sam exchanged another look with Dean. He had the sinking feeling that he knew the exact reason why they were still tied up…

"You want to have sex with us, don't you?" Sam asked the Woman.

"Until you scream our names," she nodded.

"All of you?" Dean asked.

"Yes." The Woman starting pointing at the others. "There's Emily, Courtney, Kim, Kathy, Ten, Charlie, Corinne, Thelma, Priscilla, and Patty. The rest are milling about the compound. You may call me Agent K."

"No offense, but there are some guys here and-"

"We know you're bi."

"… oh."

"Sam too."

"But what's sex without foreplay?" Courtney asked as she bent down near Sam. "I want to hear about your life in your words. Loves, hates, deepest darkest fears, you know, stuff like that."

"You're taking away from the sex time," Charlie pointed out. "At least ask them about their kinks."

"We _know_ about their kinks," Ten pointed out. "Get them to tell us about their thinly-disguised brotherly lust!"

"Oh yeah," Courtney nodded. She turned to Dean. "So, if- say- you found out that Sam wasn't _really_ your brother, how long would you wait before you shagged him senseless?"

Sam saw Dean turn white. He felt his eyes almost pop out of his head.

"Stop scaring them!" Emily snarled as she joined the conversation. "Fear decreases blood flow to the happy place!" She turned a comforting smile to Sam. "Let's talk about business. Your business involves adrenaline, and that's much more conductive to sex. There are these three repulsively annoying femme beasts in a place called Stars Hollow that are just begging you to kill them."

"Oh, no way sister!" Kathy snapped as she joined the throng. She smiled at Dean. "There's this slimy, slithering succubus in Smallville that you'd love to exterminate, wouldn't you?"

"Forget them!" Thelma called out. "San Francisco is plagued by witches! If you want to do the world a favour, you'll burn the witches!"

"They _are_ witches," Corinne added. "Every single one of them weighs the same as the average duck."

"Don't send them there!" Priscilla protested. "Have you any idea what might happen if they encountered _those_ three and their little dumb wannabe? The same thing that happened to Big Gay Chris, that's what!"

"True," Kim mused. "Besides, they'd do the world a much bigger favour if they got Uzi's and went sickhouse on the general population of Capeside."

"Don't worry boys," Patty said soothingly. "The people of Capeside aren't real. They're soul-sucking demons with big foreheads and an unnatural attraction to Tom Cruise."

"ENOUGH!" Agent K shouted. "Talk later! Orgy with the tied up Deans now! Do we have the supplies?"

"Magus has the whipping cream," Kim announced.

"And the flavoured sauces," Ten added.

"And the wax," Charlie added.

Priscilla fainted.

"I have the smelling salts," Kathy announced as she went to tend to her fallen comrade.

"I have the bubbly," Thelma grinned.

"Good," Agent K nodded. "We'll start with that. When Priscilla comes to, get her to fetch Magus- and tell her to yank him out of the DA scrum if she has to."

Dean looked at Sam.

"This isn't a nightmare, is it?"

Sam shrugged as best he could. Then he remembered something and started grinning.

"So, no kissing the Major-General tonight?" He teased.

"Shut up, Sammy."

It was the last thing either brother said to the other for a week.

END


End file.
